Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Ah God, unlid this skyand free the wild birds who throw themselvesagainst it like stones against armored glass.Unlid these sleeping eyes,reveal the vast and turning armillary spheresand the silent axles that support the wheelsrolling under the universe.Smoke: all this machinery is smoke and mirrorsclotted now with cobwebs and we fumble blind.Our fingers tell us truthsthe eyes refuse to see. They find the gapsbetween the gears, the frayed places in the fabricthe hinge in the sky's lidthat lets in a single crack of dazzling lightagainst which the birds throw themselves.Of course the birds are mad.